THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


J 


RESURGAM: 

POEMS  AND  LYRICS 


O.  R.  HOWARD  THOMSON 


PHILADELPHIA 

WILLIAM  M.  BAINS 

1915 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

O.  R.  HOWARD  THOMSON 
1915 


PRESS    OF 

THE  GAZETTE  AND  BULLETIN 
WILLIAM8PORT.  PA. 


To  ADELHEID 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT  is  made  of  the  courtesy  of  the 
Editors  of  "The  Book  News  Monthly,"  "The  Living 
Church"  and  "The  Public  Ledger"  in  permitting  the 
inclusion  in  this  volume  of  four  poems  which  originally 
appeared  in  those  periodicals. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

RESURGAM       -  1 

THE  EASTER  OF  LAZARUS  2 

A  FANTASY  -       5 

THE  AGNOSTIC  7 

LILITH  10 

THE  HILL-TOP  15 

GOLD  21 

WINTER  NIGHT   -            -  23 

THE  CHILDREN  AT  THE  GATE  -     21 

THE  CHRIST-CHILD  26 

IN  MEMORIAM  27 

TO  DEIRDRE  OF  THE  SORROWS  28 

THE  CRUCIFIX  30 

TO 32 

TEMPLES  AND  TABERNACLES       -  33 

THE  DEAD  SCIENTIST  34 

DEATH  AND  LIFE  35 

TRIOLET     ---  36 


RESURGAM 

THE  warm  wind  carries  in  its  breast  a  song; 

The  mountain  brooks  make  music  as  they  flow ; 
And  scarlet  tulips  dare  the  half-veiled  sun, 
Flames,  such  as  theirs,  to  show. 

The  tree-crowned  hills  suck  in  the  vernal  haze; 
Earth  bares  her  bosom  to  the  quickening  rain ; 
The  wakened  chipmunks  slyly  peep  abroad 
And  blue-birds  flash  again. 

And  through  the  veins  of  watching,  listening  man, 

There  flows  some  little  of  that  pagan  wine 
That  called  forth  visions  of  fair  nymphs  at  play, 
Whose  beauty  was  divine. 

And  in  his  ears  re-echo  ancient  tales, 

Told  in  the  dusk  beneath  a  violet  sky, 
Of  hidden  things  in  cedar  groves,  and  forms 
Soft-footed,  passing  by. 

And  though  Pan 's  pipe  no  longer  sounds  afar, 

He  turns  towards  Enna,  Proserpina's  vale, 
And  to  the  Ghosts  of  all  the  vanished  Gods 
He  softly  whispers — "Hail!" 


THE  EASTER  OF  LAZARUS 

PEACE,  Mary!  Peace!  I  do  rejoice — 
I  feel  the  same  clear  fire  illumes  my  heart 
That  makes  the  turquoise  of  thy  sister's  eyes 
Shine  like  still  waters  in  the  sun.    But  I  have  died 
And  live  again ;  and  know  too  much  to  take 
Part  in  thy  exultations  or  thy  tears. 
I  knew  too  much  to  beat  upon  my  breast, 
Or  cast  myself  upon  the  ground,  or  cry 
Aloud,  when,  midst  the  earthquake,  and  the  light 
That  conquered  that  strange  midnight  of  the  noon, 
Thou  earnest,  wailing,  back  from  Calvary 
To  weep.    Nor  shall  I  weep  as  thou  wilt  weep, 
Some  few  weeks  hence  when  He  departs. 

Nay,  nay! 

I  am  not  cold :  I  knew  that  He  would  rise — 
I  learned  so  much  when  I  was  dead — But  that, 
Which  thou  wouldst  know,  I  may  not  speak:  and 

that, 

I  would  recall,  I  half  forget.    Hush !   Hush ! 
Thou  must  not  couple  Lazarus  with  Christ — 
Two  risen  from  the  dead — nor,  through  thy  love, 
Imagine  death  is  past  for  Lazarus. 
I  tell  thee  Death  grins  satyr-like,  and  licks 
His  lips,  against  the  time  when  he  shall  feast 


THE  EASTER  OF  LAZARUS  3 

A  second  time  on  me.    Look  on  my  face : 

And  feel  the  wrinkles  just  beneath  my  eyes : 

They  were  not  there  when  I  was  raised.    But  He — 

If  Christ  should  stay  a  thousand  years  on  earth, 

Anticipating  the  millenium, 

Not  one  gray  hair  would  show  amidst  the  brown. 

Did  I  not  tell  thee,  that,  when  I  was  dead 

I  learned  too  much  either  to  joy  or  grieve 

In  that  abandonment  of  ecstasy 

That  makes  the  soul  feel  almost  kin  to  God, 

Or  sport  of  fiends.    I  think  more  than  I  feel : 

And,  if  my  case  were  thine,  wouldst  thou  not  wonder 

Sometimes,  perchance,  when  looking  on  the  sea, 

Or  in  the  watches  of  the  night,  when  half 

The  stars  are  veiled,  and  nothing  lives  or  moves, 

Except  the  gloomy  cypress  trees,  why  He 

Had  called  thee  back?    It  must  have  been  He  loved 

Me,  and  the  priests  are  lying  hypocrites 

Saying:    "He  did  it  to  impress  the  multitude." 

He  must  have  known  all  that  it  meant  to  me 

To  know  that  I  must  die  a  second  time — 

I,  who  remember  what  it  is  to  die — 

And  make  my  body  for  the  second  time, 

A  caravansary  for  worms. 

Go  in 
And  talk  with  Martha,  for  I  wish  to  think. 


4  THE  EASTER  OF  LAZARUS 

Yet  do  not  dream,  that  I  am  not  content : 
Did  I  not  tell  thee  that  my  heart  was  light — 
It  is  no  little  thing  to  know,  that  when 
He  stood  beside  my  grave,  He  wept. 


A  FANTASY 

"A  man  of  a  family  great 
Ban  away  with  a  pretty  maid  : 
The  maid  she  died,  and  the  man  he  cried, 
But  his  friends,  they  were  all  elate." 
(Ballad). 

THEY  called  thee  names — 

Shrugged  their  round  shoulders  in  their  hate, 

Whispering  foul  things  they  dared  not  state : 

Yet,  none  of  those  proud  dames, 

Could  make  thee  less  than  wondrous  fair, 

Or  dim  the  lustrous  red-gold  hair 

That  girt  about  thy  head. 

Yet  now,  thy  pulse  is  stilled, 
And  no  more  past  thy  ripe  red  lips 
Thy  breath  in  balmy  odor  slips, 
For  they,  alas,  are  chilled : 
And  each  dear  eye  is  veiled  and  hid 
By  the  fringed  beauty  of  its  lid, 
To  ope;,  alas,  no  more. 

No  more !    A  world  of  woe 
Is  gathered  in  those  words  of  doom. 
The  Earth  shall  follow  in  the  gloom 
The  path  that  she  should  go ; 


6  A  FANTASY 

And  all  along  that  dreary  way 

Shall  myriad  eyes  greet  each  new  day, 

Yet  thine,  shall  ope  no  more. 

Ah  Love!  how  sore  a  jest 
To  leave  me,  here  alone,  forlorn — 
When  we  a  deathless  troth  had  sworn — 
Come  back,  and  make  me  blest. 
Come  back,  and  bend  thy  lips  to  mine, 
Let  thy  rich  hair  with  mine  entwine, 
Let  hand  repose  in  hand — . 

Let  thy  soft  bosom  beat 

In  loving  rhythm  'gainst  my  breast — 

That  place  where  thou  wert  wont  to  rest- 

Until —    Alas,  I  cheat 

My  mind  with  visions,  fair  but  vain, 

E'en  now  my  tears  fall  like  the  rain 

In  witness  thou  art  dead. 


THE  AGNOSTIC 

ALL  that  you  say  means  nought.    I  am  not  one 

To  be  affrighted  by  mere  words;  else  I 

Had  grovelled  and  abjured  the  verdict  of  my  brain 

When  the  high  bishops  of  your  wide-flung  church 

Condemned  my  soul  to  everlasting  fire ; 

Or  when  Rome's  cardinals,  in  scarlet  robes, 

Pronounced  anathemas  upon  my  head. 

To  you,  had  you  been  present,  it  had  seemed, 

Beneath  the  damnatory  clauses  of  their  creeds, 

I  must  have  shrivelled  up,  as  shrivel  slugs 

Cast  by  a  gardener  on  his  furnace  coals. 

Yet  still  I  live ;  still  shines  the  sun  for  me ; 

Still  apple-blossoms  in  the  spring-time  trust 

The  warm  south  wind  to  bring  me  where,  I  lie 

The  fragrance  of  their  souls ;  still  in  the  morn 

The  birds  sing  songs  for  me,  and  perch  upon 

My  chamber's  window-sill. 

I  say  you  know 

No  more  than  I.    Belief  is  not  the  same 
As  knowledge.   When  I  was  young,  God  sang 
Within  my  soul ;  each  church 's  cross-crowned  spire 
Pointed  to  Heaven ;  and  every  prayer  I  breathed 
Rose  on  strong  pinions  to  that  far-off  place 


8  THE  AGNOSTIC 

Where  angels  cast  down  golden  crowns  before 

A  throne,  encompassed  with  a  radiance 

More  lovely  than  the  radiance,  of  the  dawn. 

Well,  I  am  old,  and  all  my  fire  gone  out : 

My  life  has  been  one  long  dismantlement 

Of  gorgeous  trappings  which  I  stole  from  dreams. 

I  have  my  house,  some  books,  and  with  some  men, 

Whom  you  despise,  some  little  meed  of  fame. 

I  do  not  seek  to  gather  proselytes 

To  spread  my  views — I  know  I  do  not  know, 

Nor  ever  can  until  my  heart-beats  cease ; 

And  even  then,  should  it  be  mankind's  fate 

To  vanish,  as  a  candle's  flame  goes  out, 

I  shall  not  know. 

My  friend,  let  us  be  friends. 
It  is  not  arrogance  that  makes  man  doubt, 
Nor  hate,  nor  anything  save  lack  of  proof, 
Or  if  you  so  prefer,  a  lack  of  light 
Within  what  you  term  souls.    Let  me  enjoy 
The  comradeship  of  men  who  are  but  men, 
The  sunshine  and  the  shadows  on  the  hills, 
The  sound  of  water  in  the  mountain  dells, 
The  whir  of  birds  upstarting  from  the  grass, 
The  scent  of  pine-trees  in  the  lonely  woods. 
I  have  no  children,  and  I  sometimes  think 
'Tis  better  so.    I  do  not  know  that  I 
Could  give  them  such  a  youth  as  I  enjoyed: 
For  I  was  mad,  and  every  day  I  lived, 
As  I  have  told  you,  God  sang  within  my  soul, 


THE  AGNOSTIC 

And  every  pulse  within  my  body  throbbed 
With  passion  to  unite  with  him. 

Well,  well, 

What  use  is  all  this  wordiness?    To-day, 
I  do  not  know — I  do  not  know. 


LILITH 

As  NIGHT  withdrew,  reluctant  to  fold  up 
The  purple  draperies  with  which  she  veiled 
The  garden  that  was  made  for  man,  Lilith  awoke ; 
And  while  her  heavy  lids  still  seemed  inclined 
To  hide  again  the  deep  pools  of  her  eyes 
She,  with  the  luxurious  abandon  of  a  queen, 
Stretched  her  bare  arm.    She  was  so  beautiful, 
So  utterly  and  wholly  beautiful, 
It  seemed  the  sun,  now  peeping  o'er  the  crests 
Of  Eden's  hills,  climbed  drawn  by  desire; 
And  that  the  stars,  faint  in  the  kindling  sky, 
Had  paled  in  sheer  despair. 

A  moment's  space 

Her  firm,  cool  fingers  played,  unconsciously 
As  some  young  child's  might  play,  amongst 
The  long  blades  of  the  grass,  that  grew  a  scant 
Two  palm's-breadths  from  the  heaped  up  boughs 
Of  balsam-fir  whereon  she  couched.    Anon 
She  turned  and  resting  all  her  body's  weight 
Upon  her  straightened  arm,  hung  over  Adam 
With  a  stern  face,  her  lips  drooping  a  little, 
And  her  smooth  forehead  puckered  in  a  frown.    The 

light 
Broadened,  and  a  long  tress  of  her  black  hair 

10 


LILITH  ii 

Slipping  from  off  her  alabaster  breasts 
Touched  Adam,  so  that  he  waked  and  lay, 
His  head  supported  in  his  hollow  hands, 
With  eyes  unblinking  staring  at  the  sky. 

"Oh  fool,"  she  said,  then  paused  while  regally  she 

raised 

Her  lithesome  body  to  its  utmost  height ; 
And  once  again,  "Thou  blind,  blind  fool,"  she  said — 
One  had  not  thought  that  her  soft  lips  could  curl 
In  such  disdain,  though  pity,  love's  last  fruit, 
Strove  with  her  scorn  for  mastery.    "Will  Eve," 
She,  asked,  "with  her  soft  limbs  climb  to  the  tops 
Of  the  great  hills  with  thee  as  I  have  climbed, 
My  bosom  heaving  never  more  than  thine? 
Or  will  she  cleave  the  waters  of  the  lake 
Side  by  thy  side,  laughing  to  see  the  sun 
Change  into  diamonds  the,  drops  that  from  her  hands 
Drip,  as  they  dripped  from  mine :  or  diving  deep 
Catch  thee  below  the  surface  and  in  utter  joy 
Kiss  thee  despite  the  water's  weight?    Oh  fool, 
Oh  blind !  fit  father  of  a  race  to  come, 
Doomed  in  its  age  to  stay  as  blind 
As  are  the  new-born  cubs  the  panther  guards 
From  straying  where  the  jackal  hunts." 

Upon 

The  giant  plane-tree's  topmost  branch,  a  thrush, 
Waked  by  a  beam  the  sun  shot  o'er  the  hill, 


12  LILITH 

Turned  towards  the  east  and  cast  about  the  leaves 

Splashes  of  music,  full  throated  bursts  of  song 

And  joyous  orisons,  until  the  air 

Sweet  with  the  scent  of  dew-encrusted  May, 

Vibrated  in  a  soundless  harmony. 

But  Adam  lay  as  though  he  heard  it  not ; 

As  though  the  earth  were  hideous  and  dead; 

As  though  no  sunlight  was,  no  music  breathed, 

No  perfume  moved ;  as  though  the  green-clad  world 

Could  boast  of  nothing  that  was  beautiful. 

Then  Lilith  spake,  "  Last  night  the  moon  grew  old : 

Her  light  was  jaundiced,  and  her  rays  were  but 

Pale  travesties  of  those  she  cast  when  young; 

Her  beauty  waned,  it  was  no  longer  crescent ; 

Her  farther  edge  was  ragged  as  a  leaf 

Gnawed  by  a  worm.    Decay  was  in  the  air : 

And  through  the  grove,  on  bare-soled  stealthy  feet 

Crept  whispers,  uttering  lies.    I  do  not  say 

This  was  thy  fault ;  yet  surely  it  had  been 

More  worthy  thee  if  thou  hadst  stopped  thine  ears. 

When  we  two  came  together  in  the  light 

That  bathed  this  garden  on  our  marriage  morn, 

I  did  not  ask  thy  parentage ;  then  now 

Why  shouldst  thou  question  mine?     What  if  the 

snake's 
Were  once  my  form?    Surely  my  bosom  shows  no 

scales : 
Nor  have  my  limbs,  when  by  thy  hands  caressed, 


LILITH  13 

Betrayed  such  origin.    Look  how  the  sun 
Shines  on  my  flesh :    I  dare  his  strongest  light 
Nor  fear  his  verdict.    Oh,  thou  purblind  fool ! 
Dost  thou  believe  that  whilst  thou  art  asleep 
I  steal  away  and,  as  a  screech-owl,  prey 
On  flesh  of  weaker  things ;  or  clothe  myself 
In  vampire's  form  to  suck  the  blood  that  flows 
A  crimson  torrent  through  the  veins  of  beasts  ? 
What  wizardry  hast  thou  at  any  time, 
Beheld  me  use — what  spells  heard  me  recite? 
Canst  thou  recall  strange  wavings  of  my  hands, 
Or  braziers  held  above  a  charcoal  flame 
Surrounded  by  strange  images  ?    Such  things 
Are  children,  fathered  by  disordered  minds 
Frightened  by  something  happening  in  the  dark : 
Yet,  in  this  morning  light,  which  should  dispel 
Doubt  with  the  night-grown  mists,  thou  liest  there 
Unspeaking ;  hugging  to  thy  heart  the  thought 
I  caught  thee  by  old  runes,  and  held  thee  since 
Captive  by  dint  of  web-like,  sorceries : 
So  will  thy  sons  in  future  times,  hug  lies, 
To  salve  their  consciences  when  they  desire 
To  ape  the  brute,  and  gain  new  partners  to 
Assuage  their  lusts.    I  would  not  hold  in  thrall, 
Through  magic,  any  meanest  thing  that  lives, 
Or  shall  hereafter  live.    I  used  no  charm. 
I  was  no  demon's  leman,  learning  spells 
Taught  me,  while,  clasped  in  evil  arms,  to  snare 
Thee  to  thy  ruin.    What  were  such  to  me  ? 
I  tell  thee  that  the  whispers  lied !    Yet  they 


i4  LILITH 

Glimpsed  half  the,  truth :    I  am  myself  enough, 

Or  so  I  thought,  to  lure  from  Paradise 

One  half  her  populace.    Satan,  himself, 

Had  been  content  to  bend  the  knee ;  had  been 

Content  to  be,  'God's  man' — to  fetch  and  carry — 

Had  but  the  pay  been  Lilith." 

She  ceased, 

And  stretching  up  her  arms  until  they  found 
Support  against  the  great  tree's  giant  trunk, 
Bowed  her  proud  head  between.    Then  Adam  rose; 
And  looking  neither  to  the  right  or  left, 
And  looking  not  upon  her  where  she  wept, 
Walked  slowly  down  unto  the  water's  edge 
Where  Eve  stood  gazing  at  her  golden  hair 
Reflected  in  the  stream. 


THE  HILL-TOP 

I— THE  HILL 

THREE  trees,  that  top  the  low  hill's  rounded  crest, 

Bare  of  all  leaves,  as  earth  of  life  seems  bare ; 
A  sickly  sun,  too  pale  to  light  the  west 

Or  dry  the  damp  that  saturates  the  air. 
What  did  I  say  to  her,  what  said  she  in  reply — 

Should  not  our  love  have  stood,  us  two,  between? 
How  low  the  sun  hangs  in  the  leaden  sky : 

Autumn  is  ever  gray  as  Spring  is  green. 

II — DREAMS 

Last  night  I  dreamed  many  dreams, 

One,  of  a  year  ago 

When  'neath  the  sun's  reviving  beams 
The  hill  was  all  aglow ; 

And  nestling  in  the  grass  still  wet 
I  found  a  purple  violet. 

She  leaned  against  a  young  ash-tree, 

My  hands  the  flower  held ; 
Far  down  the  valley  flowed  a  stream 
That  from  the  hillside  welled : 
I  read  my  answer  in  her  eyes — 
Better  than  words  are  such  replies. 

15 


16  THE  HILL-TOP 

Again  I  dreamed,  a  dream  full  bad, 

For  evil  spirits  hovered  near; 
Gray  forms  in  misty  garments  clad — 
Ghosts  such  as  haunt  the  dying  year — 
They  wailed  aloud,  ''The  Spring  is  gone, 
Wander  abroad — alone,  forlorn." 

Ill — QUEBEC 

The  streets  are,  narrow,  the  hills  are  steep, 
In  the  market  place  may  no  man  sleep, 

Nor  ever  stop  for  thought. 
A  stone  shaft  stands  on  Abraham's  Plain, 
To  mark  the  spot  where  Wolfe  was  slain, 
As  he  seized  the  prize  that  the  great  Champlain 

To  France  by  conquest  brought. 
Two  tongues  the  people  use  for  speech, 

The  priests  a  third  for  prayer ; 
And  ever  along  the  plaza's  reach 

Is  heard  the  sound  of  passing  feet : 
The  Scotch  troops  pace  with  their  bare  red  knees 
By  the  side  of  nuns  from  the  nunneries, 
And  Padres  jostle  the  bright  red  coats 
Of  His  Majesty's  troops,  who  watch  the  boats, 

That  form  Quebec's  small  fleet. 

Six  candles  burn  in  the  church's  aisle. 
Here  should  a  man  find  peace  for  a  while 

If  in  no  other  place. 
He  who  hath  lost  what  he  loved  the  most 


THE  HILL-TOP  17 

Cannot  be  saddened  to  see  the  Host 
Offered  afresh  for  a  soul  that  is  loosed, 

In  token  of  God's  grace. 
Surely,  the  woman  all  dressed  in  black 

Must  be  the  dead  one's  mother: 
Ah,  haply  Christ  will  her  tears  unslack 

So  that  she  shall  not  smother. 
What  name  is  that  that  her  dry  lips  said? 
'Tis  the  name  of  her  child  that  lieth  dead. 
I  cannot  bear  that  her  lips  should  frame 
O'er  her  dead  child's  corpse  my  lost  love's  name — 

So  out  into  the  street. 

IV — ON  BARNEGAT 

The  halliards  thrash,  the  tiller  bends, 

The  lee-rail  buries  deep : 
The  spray  flies  slanting  o'er  the  bow, 

The  waves  like  madmen  leap. 

Astern  there  drives  another  boat 

Her  canvas  bellied  round ; 
Her  sharp  prow  cleaves  a  true  straight  course 

With  gentle,  purring  sound. 

A  foot  or  two  I  ease  my  sheet — 

The  wind  has  grown  a  gale ; 
A  flaw  that  strikes  me  unprepared 

Makes  ribands  of  my  sail. 


i8  THE  HILL-TOP 

And  while  I  strive  to  bring  my  craft 

Head  up,  into  the  wind, 
To  windward,  passes  that  slim  boat 

A  moment  since  behind. 

Alone  I  drift,  forlorn,  inert; 

Chill  comes  with  sinking  sun — 
How  should  I  steer,  whose  hands  were  weak 

And  lost  the  jewel  they  won? 

V— THE  MONK 

Last  night  I  saw  a  lean,  gaunt  monk, 
With  tonsured  head  on  bosom  sunk 

A-telling  of  his  beads. 
So  frail  of  form  and  voice  was  he, 
I  asked  him  if  he'd  pardon  me, 

If  I  should  ease  his  needs. 

He  said  he  wanted  nothing  more, 
Than  that  his  brethren  had  in  store, 

Yet,  looking  in  his  eye, 
I  thought  I  read  his  secret  there, 
Naked  and  cold,  and  wholly  bare 

And  that  he  wished  to  die. 

I  wondered  why  he  took  the  vow 
That  made  him  such  as  he,  was  now, 

So  piteous  and  sad — 
I  wondered  if  a  woman's  face 


THE  HILL-TOP  19 

Denied  to  him,  but  full  of  grace, 
Had  charmed  him  as  a  lad. 

VI— AT  THE  OPERA 

Outside  the  wind  blows  chill 

And  snow-flakes  filter  through  a  murky  sky ; 

Inside,  are  myriad  lights,  and  people  fill 

The  house  from  pit  to  dome. 

How  fair  the  women  are,  to  see ! 

White  are  their  shoulders,  milk-colored  are  their 

pearls, 

Rich  jewels  glimmer  in  their  perfumed  curls, 
Their  furs  are  like  sea-foam. 

A  bass  viol  speaks; 

A  silvern  flagonet  whispers  soft  reply 

Then  stops  and  sleeps.    A  shrill  horn  shrieks, 

Like  to  a  soul  beneath  the  strain 

Of  mortal  agony; 

Throbbing  the  violins  break  forth,  yet  quick  their 
song  is  drowned 

'Neath  trumpets'  brazen  calls  and  wood-winds'  wail 
ing  sound : 

Then  all  is  still  again. 

A  woman's  voice  of  gold 
Shatters  the  silence,,  as  a  sunbeam  strong 
Breaks  through  thin  clouds  too  weak  to  hold 
The  earth  in  dark  embrace — 


20  THE  HILL-TOP 

She  sings  some  old  love  song. 

Curst  be  the  world,  and  curst  be  those  who  scheme 

Ever  to  wake  in  me  that  bygone  dream 

That  I  would  fain  efface. 

VII— THE  HILL-TOP 

Again  the  hill  and  those  three  trees  I  knew : 

Why  did  I  go?    Ah,  God  alone  can  tell ; 
Perchance  I  thought,  while  knowing  'twas  not  true, 

To  see  the  spot  might  help  to  make  me  well. 
I  gained  the  crest  and  gazing  down  the  road 

Saw  that  slim  form,  that  ever  dwelt  with  me : 
I  saw  the  bridge    'neath  which  the  small  stream 
flowed, 

And  heard  the  robins  in  the  young  ash-tree. 

She  came  to  me  all  dressed  in  yielding  white, 
With  hands  outstretched,  the  love  light  in  her 

eyes; 
Yet  I  stood  dumb,  and  swaying  in  the  light, 

Groping  for  truth  as  for  lost  melodies. 
Sudden  her  hand  went  fingering  with  her  dress 
And  from  her  bosom  drew  a  withered  violet. 
Has  sorrow  kinship  with  great  happiness? 

I  wiped  her  eyes  the  while  mine  own  were  wet. 


GOLD 

IN  the  black  of  the  midnight  hour,  in  the  womb  of 

the,  sweating  Earth, 

In  the  strength  of  their  hate  and  power,  the  Hell- 
Gods  brought  me  to  birth  : 
My  muscles  they  forged  in  the  fire,  my  thews  they 

shaped  in  the  blast, 
With  a  purpose  vengeful  and  dire,  I  was  loosed  in 

the  world  at  last. 
With  cunning  my  seed  I  have  scattered, 

My  grains  of  exceeding  worth : 
The  might  of  my  rivals  is  shattered — 
It  is  I,  rule  the  Earth ! 

In  the  gloom  of  the,  Early  Ages,  while  the  Earth  was 

young  in  her  years, 
By  the  hands  of  the  wizened  Sages,  the  Seekers  who 

knew  no  fears, 
My  grains  were  dragged  from  the  places,  where  long 

they  had  lain  alone ; 
They  were  shown  to  the  many  races  who  now  are 

the  slaves  that  I  own : 
For  deep  in  their  hearts  have  they  nourished 

The  love  of  my  might  and  my  worth : 
My  sway  it  has  prospered  and  flourished — 
It  is  I,  rule  the  Earth ! 

21 


22  GOLD 

The  Kings  that  to  dust  have  crumbled,  the  Knights 

of  the  Ancient  Day, 

That  over  the  Earth  have  rumbled,  in  heavy  battle- 
array, 
Made  jests  of  faith  and  of  duty,  made  dupes  of  the 

Hosts  that  they  led : 
It  was  for  my  yellow  beauty  that  the  blades  of  their 

swords  ran  red. 
Compared  to  my  golden  glitter 

They  counted  all  else — nothing  worth  : 
With  a  yoke  that  is  heavy  and  bitter — 
It  is  I,  rule  the  Earth ! 

I  am  followed  by  Murder  and  Riot,  an  Harlot  reigns 

over  my  feasts ; 
The  tongues  of  the  Prophets  are  quiet,  and  drawn 

are  the  fangs  of  the  Priests : 
My  chink  sets  the  Nations  to  quaking,  I  govern 

their  armies  vast, 
The  Kingdoms  are  but  of  my  making,  my  grip  it 

hath  gotten  them  fast. 
The  Earth  and  her  teeming  millions 
Shall  dance,  or  war,  for  my  mirth  : 
By  the  glint  of  my  golde,n  billions — 
It  is  I,  rule  the  Earth ! 


WINTER-NIGHT 

THE  snow  flakes  fall, 
And  cold  winds  brawl, 
Down  the  chimney  and  chill  the  hall : 
The  snow  has  blotted  out  pavement  and  street; 
It  lies  dead  white — it  has  no  sheen — 
But  looks  like  a  winding  sheet. 
Beyond  the  village  the  fields  are  white, 
The  flowers  are  dead  of  the  frost-fiend 's  bite, 
Of  a  moss-edged  road  there  is  never  a  sight — 
God !  for  one  patch  of  green ! 

The  snow  flakes  fall, 
And  cover  all, 

Even  the  ground  by  the  graveyard  wall. 
Two  gaunt  trees  stand  sentinel  there — 
It  were  better  they  were  not  seen 
Their  branches  are  so  bare. 
Between  their  trunks  where  bleak  winds  blow, 
A  white  grave  stone  o  'ertops  the  snow, 
Which  is  the  whiter,  I  do  not  know — 
God !  for  one  patch  of  green ! 


THE  CHILDREN  AT  THE  GATE 

THE  sturdy  villagers  within 

The  dark  oak-panelled  hall, 
Had  looked  upon  him  as  the  lord 
Who  ruled  them  one  and  all : 
And  I  without  but  watched  the  rain 

Drip  from  the  gutted  slate; 
The  while  some  children  idly  played 
Beneath  the  old  lych-gate. 

Bearing  their  load  the  mourners  moved 

And  laid  it  in  the  grave ; 
Full  in  their  faces  drave  the  rain 

Like  spray  whipped  from  a  wave. 
"Sancta  Maria !    Ah,  how  sad ! 

Might  not  the  rain  abate?" 
And  all  the  while  the  children  played 
Beneath  the  old  lych-gate. 

The  white-haired  preacher's  frail  voice  broke; 

None  caught  the  words  he  said : 
But ;  suddenly  a  sharp  gust  blew 

A  rift  above  his  head : 


CHILDREN  AT  THE  GATE 

Athwart  the  east  a  rainbow  showed, 

Its  colors  roseate — 
The  idle  children  kneeling  prayed 

Beneath  the  old  lych-gate. 


THE  CHRIST-CHILD 

THE  Christ-child  lay  in  the  stable, 

Two  thousand  years  ago : 
Mary,  his  mother,  watched  him — 

The  ground  was  hidden  by  snow. 

The  Priests  they  were  sleek  with  good  living, 
The  Pharisees  feared  not  a  fall, 

The,  Merchants  were  served  as  are  princes : 
None  heeded  the  Christ-child  at  all. 

The  Christ-child  cometh  each  Christmas, 

Anew,  to  the  earth,  it  is  said : 
Mary,  his  mother,  watcheth, 

From  heaven,  overhead. 

New  Priests  are  sleek  in  their  livings, 

New  Pharisees  fear  not  a  fall, 
New  Merchants  are  served  as  are  princes : 

None  heed  the  Christ-child  at  all. 


26 


IN  MEMORIAM 

WHEN  did  we  swear  our  oaths?    I  do  not  know; 
For  when  we  sware  them,  Seasons  ceased  to  be, 
And  Time,  freed  of  division,  was  as  truly  whole 
As  is  the  sea. 

It  may  be  that  about  us  storms  have  raged ; 

That  wintry  blasts  have  driven  keen-edged  snow 
Against  our  faces,  till  we  stooped  and  bent  our 
heads — 

I  do  not  know. 

All  I  remember  is  a  sense  of  utmost  peace, 
A  life,  lived  in  a  flower-bespangled  field, 
Checkered  with   sunlight,  and   perfumed  with  the 
scent 
That  roses  yield. 

Now,  I  left  desolate,  would  welcome  change, 

Time  will  not  wake  nor  Seasons  come  again, 
Though  all  the  flowers  are  dead,  and  ever  o'er  the 
field 

Are  clouds  and  rain. 


27 


TO  DEIRDRE  OF  THE  SORROWS 

BLIND  are  the  bards  that  so  much  pity  thee, 
And  couple,,  "Of  the  Sorrows,"  to  thy  name: 

Oh,  Deirdre !  better  if  they  wept  for  me 

Whose  love  hath  burned  with  unrequited  flame. 

Men   should  not  weep  because  thou  wouldst  not 
grace 

The  bed  Conchubar  long  prepared  for  thee : 
Thine  was  thy  youth,  and  thine  thy  wondrous  face, 

For  which  so  many  perished  dolorously. 

Seve,n  years  thou  hadst  with  Naoise  and  each  night 
Lay  warm  upon  his  breast,  that  knew  no  care 

Save  to  fulfill  thy  wishes,  till  the  light 

Came  with  the  morning,  and  he  kissed  thy  hair. 

Seven  years  before  the  King  struck  down  thy  mate — 
So  long  a  time  the  Gods  were  kind  and  gave : 

Why  should  men  weep  because  thou  wouldst  not 

wait, 
But  chose  to  clasp  thy  lover  in  his  grave. 


28 


TO  DEIRDRE  OF  THE  SORROWS        29 

Of  me,  alas,  no  man  has  wanted  aught — 

Like  empty  gourds  my  breasts  are  brown  and  dry : 

Love  with  mere  longing  is  not  gained  nor  bought — 
Not,  though  a  woman  panteth  hungrily ! 


THE  CRUCIFIX 

ALL  know  that  I  slept  in  the  old  chateau, 

Girt  round  with  giant  trees, 
And  that  one  night  when  the  oaks  sang  songs 

As  they  bent  their  heads  in  the  breeze — 
I  found  I  was  facing  a  crucifix 

And  praying  on  my  knees. 

The  Christ  was  of  yellowed  ivory, 

The  cross  was  of  walnut  wood, 
Carved  by  skilled  hands  that  the  Devil  taught 

More  than  was  understood — 
Else,  why  did  I  stretch  my  hands  to  seize, 

And  hold  it  if  I  could? 

But  it  came  apart  where  the  cross-piece  stretched 
Beneath  God's  thorn-crowned  head; 

The  lower  part  was  no  cross  at  all 
But  a  dagger's  sheath  instead; 

The,  blade,  though  tarnished,  was  keen  of  edge 
And  stained  with  a  blotch  of  red. 

Am  I,  or  the  man  who  that  weapon  made, 
To  blame  that  mine  enemy  fell — 


THE  CRUCIFIX  31 

That  my  hands  are  red  as  the  stain  on  the  blade 

He  fashioned  so  wondrous  well : 
That  I,  who  slept  in  the  chateau's  peace, 

Now  sleep  in  a  prison-cell? 


TO 

SWEET,  aye  'tis  sweet,  to  lie  at  ease 

Midst  yellow  daffodils; 
To  smell  the  vagrant  spring-born  breeze 

New  scented  from  the  hills : 
To  stretch  full  length  upon  the  grass 
And  watch  the  clouds  above  me  pass. 

Yet  ah,  much  sweeter  'tis  to  lie, 

My  head  upon  thy  breast, 
Whose  creamy  whiteness  doth  defy 

Comparison  or  test : 
And  in  that  haven  of  thy  grace 
To  feel  thy  hair  blow  o'er  my  face. 


"The  groves  were  God's  first  temples." — Bryant. 

LIKE  drunkards  to  an  inn,  men  flock  these  days 
To  tabernacles,  where  revivalists  let  loose 
On  fellow  men,  coarse  humor,  blasphemous  abuse 

And  jibes.    Surely  the  woods,  soft  with  the  haze 

Of  Spring's  awakening,  or  later  all  ablaze 
With  Autumn's  tints,  should  teach  mankind  some 
what 
Of  what  true  worship  is ;  should  show  that  not 

From  noise  and  shouting  cometh  worthy  praise. 

Peace  fills  the  places  which  God  made  for  prayer: 
No  sounds  obtrude  save  whispering  winds  and 
song 

Of  trusting  birds :  no  rough  exhorters  there 
Denounce,  with  uncouth  oratory  and  strong 

Repellent  voices,  creatures  He  has  made — 

Within  God's  temples  all  walk  unafraid. 


33 


THE  DEAD  SCIENTIST 

EACH  year,  anew,  he  felt  he  could  not  fail 
To  tear  the  veil  that  Nature  held,  and  strove 
Amidst  a  mental  labyrinth  that,  (like  a  grove 

Which  sucks  the  sun  and  makes  the  noonday  pale,) 

Made  shadows  seem  like  giants,  while  the  trail 
Was  blotted  out,  and  the  law  he  sought 
To  show  why  atoms  when  in  contact  brought 

Should  flash  to  life,  was  sought  without  avail. 

His  brain  is  stilled,  and  all  the  thoughts  he  cast 
In  studied  phrases,  while  he  slowly  trod 

The  laboratory's  length,  are  but  the  past 
Babblings  of  genius  bound  to  a  testing-rod : 

Yet  on  his  lips  a  smile  tells  how  at  last 

He  passed  the  baffling  curtain,  and  found — God. 


34 


DEATH  AND  LIFE 

THERE  are  too  many  feeble  souls  to-day 

Who  drape  their  shoulders  with  the  poet's  robe 
And  attitudinize,  as  if  this  globe 

Were  better  for  their  vaporings :  souls  that  display 

Lean,  pigmy  thoughts  tricked  out  in  the  array 
Of  magic  poesy ;  weak  souls  whose  breath 
Is  all  exhausted  in  a  paean  of  Death, 

Sole  solace  of  their  unheroic  clay. 

Great  souls  face  death  unflinching,  with  calm  eyes, 
Heirs  of  Rhegium  and  the  Spartan  brood : 

Yet,  they  attest  life's  pulsing  ecstasies 
And  the  mad  glory  of  its  amplitude. 

Death,  is  denial :    Life,  an  act  of  God — 

Pity  poor  things  grown  envious  of  the  sod ! 


35 


TRIOLET 

GIVE  me  a  red  rose  from  thy  hair 
To  wear  forever  on  my  breast ; 
If  thou  wouldst  ease  my  deep  despair 
Give  me  a  red  rose  from  thy  hair, 
Touched  by  thy  hands  so  white  and  fair ; 
If  thou  wouldst  make  me  doubly  blest, 
Give  me  a  red  rose  from  thy  hair 
To  wear  forever  on  my  breast. 


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